Guardian Angel
by Unicadia
Summary: Being a Guardian Angel is not easy, especially when you have nine charges at the same time. T for violence and angst.


6th of June, year 1832 of Earth

To: Most High God, Heaven

From: GA Mehetebel

Guardian Task #349218908: Personal report

I know You know everything, but I need to tell You how I feel, and I also have a request for my new task. I am a relatively new Guardian Angel, and I didn't find my forte until I was made Guardian of Napoléon Bonaparte, a position which later became quite important – my first big job. Of course, it was a very difficult position; he grieved me so often and drove me half mad. But it was while I was his Guardian that I fell in love with his country, France. You'll remember that after he died, I put in a request to be given another French human.

You had been so pleased with my performance that you entrusted me with a rather large task – one rarely given to Guardian Angels. You gave me not one human, but nine – a society of revolutionary boys called Les Amis de l' ABC. They already had their own personal Guardians, but I was to watch over them as a whole. It was a very high position, not because they were important in the human sense (indeed, they were hardly noticed at all), but because they were a group. Only 594 other Guardians have ever been assigned to multiple humans.

In any case, being a group Guardian was very different from being a personal Guardian, and it became my challenge to figure out how to split my time between each of them. It was easy when they all gathered for their meetings, but during the rest of the time, I didn't know what to do. GA Arodi, who was Guardian of the 300 Spartans who met their end at Thermopylae (and quite obviously the expert in this matter) advised me to assign each of my charges a set of numbers from each month; for example, 2, 12, 24, and so on. Then I was to spend those days with one of my boys.

Since there were nine of them, this made it relatively easy, except I did not know what to do with the 'tens' – the 10th, 20th, and so on of every month. I had double the problem with months with 31 days. First I went with whichever of my boys seemed to need the most help. I came to this conclusion before I knew them well, and so for a long time either Sacha Feuilly (a poor fan-maker, the only non-student in the group), Mathieu Grantaire (a drunk), or Hyacinthe Joly (who always seemed so ill, until I later learned from his Guardian that he was a hypochondriac of all things) landed on the tens or the 31st days. I then decided to randomly choose one of the boys every tenth day, but for some reason, after almost a year of this, I realized my supposedly random choice never fell on Fernand Laigle (You were always working probability against him; far be it from me to question why You do things, but it was odd). I confess I at last resorted to taking the tenth and 31st days off, which made me feel a little guilty, but I came to know their city – Paris – very well, which I think aided in my better understanding them.

I'm also afraid I played favorites. Do not misunderstand me; I loved each and every one of them. But I naturally gravitated toward some over others – most especially Alexandre Bahorel and their leader Enjolras (I will not write his first name, though I know You know it; he hated his name, You see, and never allowed any of his friends to call him by it). Having been around Napoléon, I was drawn to these two fire-brands. Of course, it was a little shocking to be placed over men who hated the king after having just been his Guardian, but in time, it didn't matter much. Indeed, I ignored it, and here I come to another confession: although I attended every one of their meetings, and heard everything they said, I made it a point not to take anything they spoke of to heart. To be honest, it bored me, and, I am ashamed to say, it didn't seem very important. I am not in favor of revolts against those whom You have placed in power, but their motivations were correct in every way. And I missed it. This is my greatest regret.

* * *

Although Enjolras and Alexandre were my favorites, I loved basking in the radiance my other boys gave off. Every day was a new adventure, something to look forward to. I gave Enjolras the number 1, since he was the leader. In that same way, I gave the next two in command the next two consecutive numbers: Etienne Combeferre, the gentle guide, and André Courfeyrac, the bright center. After that, I changed the order several times once I started learning more about my boys, but I finally ended with Sacha Feuilly as 4, Hyacinthe Joly as 5, Jehan (that's Jean Prouvaire; my dear romantic poet) as 6, Mathieu Grantaire as 7, Fernand Laigle (his friends called him Bossuet; I could not understand why) as 8, and Alexandre Bahorel as 9 (yes, I admit; a little treat for me at the end).

I followed them everywhere. I would walk with Enjolras on his rounds visiting hosts of different kinds of people or talking and debating with his two closest friends, Etienne and André, in between his classes. My sweet Enjolras. He was so often misunderstood, even by his friends, though not by Etienne and André, I think. At first, even I didn't understand him, until I spoke to his Guardian, a sweetie named Shiphrah; You'll remember her - she was most notably the Guardian of King David. Many see a cold, unloving exterior on Enjolras, but they don't realize that You gave him the biggest heart a human can have. Why else would he risk his life for the people of France? I once saw him give every cent he had on him to a street girl and her four brothers and sisters. He would work almost as hard as Sacha, though in the form of pamphlets and strategies and papers from his classes. Everyone would always go off about his hair, but I found his eyes more interesting; bottomless wells of blue, with a barely concealed fire.

Then there was Etienne. Dear Etienne, always so serious, always studying. Those boys needed a voice of reason, a guide to show them the way, but he rather needed a guide of his own, and that's why I asked Your permission to bring to his attention that sweet girl, Adelaide, who sold flowers around the university campus. How I loved seeing Etienne's beautiful smile spread over his face when he was around her. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just left them alone. Adelaide wouldn't have been so heart-broken – but then again, Destiny would never have been born.

André, that silly, handsome boy, making eyes at every girl who came his way. I desperately tried to get him to settle on one, but You have the ultimate decision, and it was not André's fate to marry. He loved strolling about in the Luxembourg Park, a certain place every romantic person eventually visits. He teased his friend, Marius Pontmercy, endlessly, poor thing, making their Guardians quarrel from time to time. He was such a joy to be around, laughing and joking, but he could also be serious. While Enjolras commanded them and Etienne guided them, André kept them together. For some reason, my best memory of him are his perfect chestnut curls flying with his every movement.

I had to keep a close eye on Sacha; he made and painted beautiful fans, but he was only a few francs above utter poverty. He would often work so hard and long that he would be asleep long before he actually lay down in his bed. He cared almost nothing for himself, though. If he saw someone in need, he would not hesitate to help him, even if it meant increasing his own suffering. I am so proud when I think of him; he taught himself to read and write, and even knew some Latin. While most people could hardly stand his occasional rantings about Poland or Russia, I found them fascinating, though once again, I am guilty of not really listening. I just loved hearing his musical voice. I think that if he hadn't been so poor, he might have become a famous singer; I miss the songs he sang as he worked.

Hyacinthe's days were something of a circus act. I found him so amusing, that small, nervous, hypochondriac boy with the wild blond curls. His hands were never still, he flitted his gaze about, his huge hazel eyes popping out of his head like a bird. He never walked; he ran. Or rather, he darted. Darted to grab Fernand's coat. Darted to take his medicine. Darted to the Café Musain, where the boys usually met. And when he was still, he fidgeted. Fidgeted with his cravat. Fidgeted with his coat. Fidgeted with his wine glass. I would try touching his hands to stop their endless whirring, and sometimes it worked. Beneath this nervous exterior, though, Hyacinthe had a heart as big as any of the other Amis. Compassion was his heartbeat, love was on his lips, and caring shone from his eyes.

Jehan was a joy, and, as You know, above all, good. He was melancholy quite often, but when he smiled, his face would light the whole room. He had a beautiful voice as well. I remember one time when he and Sacha sang a duet - only once, though they received a standing ovation. Poor Jehan. He blushed so hard, I thought he would faint. Many of the songs and poems he wrote were about angels. Several times I almost showed myself to him, but now I can't remember why I decided against it. He talked to himself a lot - reciting poetry, voicing random thoughts and ideas. Sometimes it sounded like he was in another world, with other people, going through some epic drama. His friends never mentioned anything about schizophrenia, though. They knew him too well. His Guardian once confided to me that he also talked in his sleep for hours on end about nothing at all. He told me he could never follow his night ramblings. He also told me he sometimes walked in his sleep, and he said that that was when his role as his Guardian really became important. Once he saved him from walking into the Seine. Yes, he left his house and wandered all the way down to the river clad in nothing but his night clothes, all in his sleep.

Mathieu was a challenge. Nothing I or his Guardian did could keep him from drinking too much. His days were a strange mash-up of sort-of attending classes and wasting time in taverns - drinking, smoking, fighting. It was painful and sometimes had me on the brink of tears. Even so, I did not dread his days, but looked forward to them as another opportunity to perhaps draw him out of his depravity.

Fernand was also a challenge, but in a different way. I could not keep him from every misfortune which came his way, but I was able to prevent some small ones, like tripping over rocks which mysteriously found their way onto the street, and making sure there were always a few coins in his pocket, even after losing his wallet. He was actually quite at odds with Hyacinthe when they first met, constantly bickering, insulting each other (and it didn't help that their Guardians didn't get along very well either), but I whispered in their ears and reminded them of certain things, and they became very good friends after a short time. Fernand really could not have found a better friend than in Hyacinthe.

Alexandre. Ah, Alexandre. He grieved me often, but his days were never boring. Although he got into many brawls, I was able to prevent a few. But I never tried to soften the wounds he got in his fights, in a vain hope he would learn. He never did. After my plea to You, though, he did put aside his drinking, which I am infinitely thankful to You for. But even that didn't do much to keep from him fighting. He loved it. He laughed while he swung his fists, while he received blows, even ones that left him limping for days. I think he was a great catalyst for Enjolras' fire. They might have waited in their revolution a bit longer had it not been for my Alexandre. Sometimes his rages frightened me, and I resorted to what I had done with Etienne. Once again, You gave me permission, and once again, I wonder at this, since You knew what was coming. In any case, I brought little Odette Francois into his life. I momentarily regretted what I had done, since Odette was eleven years younger than him, and very tiny, but she had the most beautiful quieting effect on him, and now I regret nothing, except perhaps her broken heart.

* * *

After a couple years, some confusion occurred, as You will remember, when a new boy named Marius Pontmercy, joined their number. At first I was overjoyed at having another charge (and a convenient way to dispose of the guilty tenth day break), but after attending a couple meetings, he ceased to come. I did not know how to manage this, and that is when I sent that message to You concerning what I should do. In accordance with Your response, I did not include Marius in my Guardianship. I did see him often, though, on my days with André. His Guardian, GA Seir, told me Marius was in the throes of a strange romance with a girl named Cosette which was occupying most of his time. He also told me Marius was a Bonapartist, and while this interested me greatly, I understood he could not really be able to join Les Amis de l' ABC.

Although I had assigned a day for each one of my boys, every night, I would visit them all and say goodnight. This was my favorite thing to do, something I looked forward to everyday. I would stroke Enjolras' sunbeamed curls and kiss his cheek as he stayed up far into the night, working on a pamphlet or something. I would nod to the two Guardians standing at the foot of Etienne and Adelaide's bed, before I bid the sleeping humans goodnight. André, the silly thing, snored like lion, the deepest sleeper of them all. Sacha's room was always freezing in the winter, and I would hold him as long as I dared, willing some Heavenly heat to warm the poor boy. I found Hyacinthe's night routine fascinating to watch. It involved seemingly hundreds of pills and tablets and doses of foul-smelling liquids. It also involved late-night studying which rivaled Enjolras'. Jehan also stayed up late, usually passing out over a poem he was in the middle of writing. But before he would fall unconscious, Jehan was in the habit of reading long passages of poetry and great, boring tomes of books aloud – to nobody at all, of course, but I liked to think it was for me.

Visiting Mathieu was difficult and saddening for me. He would go to bed with a bottle of wine on his night stand instead of a glass of water. Fernand also distressed me, though for an entirely different reason. He had no permanent place to rest his head, and I would often put it in Hycinthe's head to invite his friend over. Eventually he got so used to it, Fernand almost got a fixed place to stay. I always found Alexandre in bed when I came to him, no matter what order I chose to visit them. Although he was a rowdy fighter with fire in his eyes, he valued his sleep very highly and never stayed up beyond nine o' clock.

* * *

I attended all their weekly meetings. Even though I never allowed them to see me, I maintained a human form around them instead of my natural, but rather frightening, shape. It made me feel like I was one of them, though they didn't allow women in the back room of the Musain, except for Louison, the café dishwasher. It was there that I sat with my boys, hearing their beautiful voices, whispering warnings in their ears when they started to drink too much, and not really listening to any of their words.

You will remember that a couple years into my time with Les Amis, You called me away for a meeting in Heaven for a year, leaving GA Heth in charge of my boys. He is even more new than I am, and I had to go over my schedule with him several times. He is a dear, though, and when I returned and asked how my boys fared, he told me everything was fine, except that Sacha was on the verge of getting thrown out from his apartment for not having enough money to pay rent and for harassing the other tenants with his rants on Poland. Thank You for not letting him end up on the streets, but I did try to persuade him to keep Poland to himself. There had been a further development, however, which Heth did not inform me about, and so it came as a surprise when one evening at the Musain, Hyacinthe mentioned that he had brought his sweetheart, Musichetta Tremblay, to the café, and she was now waiting in the front room for him. I found myself rather indignant and skeptical - for Heth not telling me, and for Hyacinthe's Guardian not telling me, and most of all that I had no say in this 'Musichetta'. Only the best would do for my boys, and I did not always trust their judgement, most especially when it came to Hyacinthe.

But I waited patiently until the meeting ended, and then I followed Fernand and Hyacinthe into the main room. An exquisite young lady, much more beautiful than Adelaide and Odette, leaped to her feet when she saw Hyacinthe. But then her eyes accosted me and grew wide with something like horror, and I realized she could see me. I froze; I did not know what to do, since I had not made myself visible to anyone my whole time as Guardian Angel of Les Amis de l' ABC. Her amazement meant she had not seen Heth , and she certainly must not have been able to see her own, Hyacinthe and Fernand's Guardians, or, for that matter, any of the Guardians of the other patrons. We stared at each other, until Fernand cleared his throat. Then Musichetta turned to face him and Hyacinthe, but slowly, her gaze flitting on me once in a while.

"Hyacinthe, what is this all about?" She jerked her hand at me and I flinched despite myself. I wished she wouldn't speak to my boys that way.

Hyacinthe stiffened at the accusatory tone in her voice. "What do you mean, love?"

She took a deep breath, as if attempting to remain patient with him. "This girl. I thought you didn't allow women in the back. So please explain yourself. This had better not be what it looks like."

Poor Hyacinthe and Fernand stared at her in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about, Chetta," said Hyacinthe. "What girl?"

Musichetta narrowed her eyes and understanding crossed her face. She pursed her lips and said, "One moment, Hyacinthe, dear. I'm going outside for a bit; you stay here with Fernand. I'll be in soon, and then we can go." Her gaze returned to me as she started to leave, and I knew she meant for me to follow her out. I did, glancing at her Guardian as I did, but he merely gave me a puzzled shrug.

I followed Musichetta away into the shadows off to the side. She turned on me, fury in her eyes. "Who are you? Why can't they see you? Are you playing with my boy?"

I could see no harm in telling her; actually, it seemed like more harm would come if I didn't. I spoke in French so she could understand me. "I am an angel, Guardian of Les Amis de l' ABC. Usually no one can see me unless I allow them to, so I'm not sure why you can see me. Perhaps you're more tuned in to the spiritual than the others."

She regarded me incredulously. "Hyacinthe isn't cheating on me?"

I sighed in exasperation. "Of course he isn't. He would never do that. He's far too noble." If not a little scatterbrained at times, I thought to myself.

Musichetta lowered her head. "I know, I know. I'm a little paranoid a times, is all." Off to the side, I saw her Guardian nod in agreement. "But . . ." Musichetta looked up at me. "You're a guardian of all of Les Amis?"

"Yes." I could not keep the pride out of my voice. But I was surprised when I saw her face contort in anger again.

"Then you will protect them, right? When they make their barricades?"

I'm afraid I was thoroughly shocked at this, and Musichetta's Guardian stared at me like he couldn't believe I didn't know. "B-barricades?"

"Yes. You were there with them while they talked about their plans, weren't you? Weren't you listening?" The accusatory tone was back, and I felt mildly irritated that I was being rebuked by a human.

Avoiding the question, I answered, "They're going to build barricades? When? Why?"

"I don't know when; Fernand said they don't know either, but they're working toward that. And you should know why, if you really are the guardian of Les Amis."

My patience was wearing thin and I was trying to come up with a plan to keep Hyacinthe away from this girl, when I realized she was only trying to protect her boys. Barricades! Barricades for what? Then I remembered the king. I swallowed my pride, much to the relief of Musichetta's Guardian, whom I saw had been approaching me. "I will do my best to protect them, for I am their Guardian, but their fate is ultimately in the Lord's hands."

She frowned a little at my words and lowered her head again. "I-I'm sorry. For how I spoke. I just - I love them so much. I couldn't bear to lose them." At this, her Guardian came up behind her and hugged her. She sighed and straightened, giving me a tiny smile. "Thank you."

I returned the smile. "You're welcome. Trust in God. If it is His will, you have nothing to fear."

* * *

I, of course, did not fear either, since I knew that if they were killed on their barricades, they would go to Heaven (though I did worry for Mathieu), but now I felt a terrible sadness at thinking of their parents and siblings, and Adelaide and Odette and now Musichetta (Hyacinthe's judgement was correct for once, I conceded). And the pain my boys might have to go through on those barricades! I could not bear to see any of them in pain, no matter small. I would even cry over Fernand's scratches and stubbed toes. And although the greatest happiness I could give my boys was living in that sublime place where You dwell, I could not help thinking that they could continue to do so much more good here on earth; they were all very young, the oldest, Alexandre, being only 30. It would be a shame, I thought (and please forgive me - I am not questioning Your decisions), to take them away before they had a chance to do more.

In any case, when the next year dawned, 1832, I could feel the tensions rising in the back room of the Musain, and it took everything I had to restrain Alexandre from going out and tearing up cobblestones. I now had another reason to worry - Adelaide was pregnant. And while I was delighted that my dear Etienne was at last going to be a father, I was at the same time devastated that there was now going to be another innocent victim of these barricades, whenever they might arise. I did not know if I should try to get Alexandre and Hyacinthe to marry their girls now or to let their romances run their natural course. I was torn between leaving mourning wives (which might be worse than a mourning lover) and granting them all possible happiness here on earth before they departed. In the end, I decided to wait and see what would happen; there was a chance these barricades might not ever appear.

You will recall that in March, I sent you an urgent request concerning Jehan, which You denied. I wish now to recount the whole story. I was following Jehan as he made his way back to his home after a meeting of Les Amis. The day had been very cold, which now accumulated into a cold, rainy night. As he passed by an alley, he stopped upon seeing a girl curled up in it. Her Guardian stood over her, looked tired and sad. My heart broke upon seeing this poor girl, with her soaked, tattered clothes and dirty, bruised arms. Jehan, my sweet Jehan, who wept over women, knelt beside her; she was unconscious and was burning with a fever. Jehan took her in his arms (he was much stronger than he looked), and he carried her all the way to his parent's house. Her Guardian fell in step with me behind him and told me she was GA Zillah, and that her human was a street girl named Éponine Thénardier. I recognized the last name because of a street urchin named Gavroche Thénardier who hung out a lot with my boys, most especially André. Zillah told me she had been waiting for someone to find Éponine for two days now, and she spoke very highly of Jehan.

Jehan had his family's doctor tend to Éponine and he sat by her bedside for hours at a time. I checked in on him often, even on my days with my other boys. I thought how tender-hearted and sweet my Jehan was. He put flowers in her room and sang to her and read her his own poetry. I didn't start worrying until I saw him stroking her hair as she slept, and then writing poems for her with a distinct romantic flavor. Troubled by these recent developments, I took more time away from my other boys, always excepting Sacha and Mathieu, of course, since they needed constant watching, and Alexandre, not only because he also required supervision, but because I could not bear to be parted from him long.

On a day I was supposed to be with André, my worst fears were realized. Jehan was sitting beside Éponine when he stood up and leaned over the girl, bringing his face close to hers, and I knew he was going to kiss her. Without thinking, I reached out and stopped him. Looking over, I saw his Guardian and Zillah looking at me with confused faces. When Jehan returned to his seat (looking distressed), I retreated to one side, avoiding the other Guardians. I know it doesn't appear to make sense, but I had several reasons for not wanting Jehan to fall in love with this waif.

I wanted my boys to have the best, and this girl was certainly not the best, at least, that is what I perceived at the time. She seemed like a nice enough girl, but Jehan deserved better. I am ashamed to admit my other reason. I did not want Jehan to fall in love at all. I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was his sweet, innocent nature, and for some reason, I thought that a girl would change him. And now, this is another one of my greatest regrets - I deprived one I loved of this happiness. For when Éponine recovered, she forgot all about Jehan. Zillah told me she was in love with Marius Pontmercy, but, of course, Marius had eyes only for his Cosette. But I know that if Jehan had kissed her, Éponine would have seen that there was someone who loved her and most likely would have forgotten her unrequited love. Instead, I broke Jehan's heart.

Realizing my mistake, that was when I sent my request to You, asking for a second chance for Jehan and Éponine. But You said no, saying that it was better this way. I think I now see why, though Your ways are infinite. Still, those last months hurt me deeply, as I watched Jehan write poem after poem for her - all in vain.

* * *

And then June came. General Lamarque, the only man in Parliament who sympathized with the people, sickened and died. To my horror, that event threw my boys into a wild frenzy. They went out and built their barricade in front of a wine shop called the Corinth. I watched with deepening sorrow as my boys sat upon their barricade in the fading light, awaiting the National Guard to attack them. Jehan led them in a quiet song. I watched as they captured a spy, Inspector Javert. I watched as Enjolras killed La Cabuc, whom I knew to actually to be a rogue named Claquesous. I watched as the National Guard advanced, as a poor old man named Mabeuf was killed while holding aloft the flag of the revolution. And then my dear Alexandre was shot down as Marius leaped suddenly upon the barricade with a powder keg and a torch. Éponine took a shot for him without him knowing. Jehan dissolved into tears, and in his distraction, was seized and executed. I kissed his cold cheek as his spirit left his body.

After this first attack, my six other boys (Mathieu was asleep in a drunken stupor upstairs in the Corinth) drifted around the barricade. Sacha carved into a wall. Hyacinthe said strange things about cats and mice, André, about torches. Etienne spoke of all those who had died. I almost wept at his words concerning Alexandre and Jehan, although I knew they were in a better place. Later, a man named Jean Valjean, though he was using an alias, came as a volunteer. He was the father of Cosette, Marius' love. How it pains me now to write this. The following morning, the boy Gavroche was killed while collecting ammunition outside the barricade, and André broke down then. I touched his shoulder, wishing I could do more. And then the National Guard brought out cannons and the barricade was torn apart - as were my boys.

I eased their suffering where I could. As André was shot in the chest, I made sure he fell upon the barricade gently. As Sacha went down, I embraced him, hoping to perhaps remind him of those cold winter nights when I would hold him. But I could not do everything, and I somehow missed Etienne, who suffered the most, I fear, for he was pierced with three bayonets. I rushed to his side as soon as I saw, and leaned over him, stroking his face. I made myself visible to him for that moment, and when he looked up, he gazed into my eyes and smiled before he died in my arms. Hyacinthe fell next. Poor Fernand could hardly move as he wept over Hyacinthe's bloody curls. I tried pulling him away, but a human will is an amazing thing, and he ignored me and was killed soon after. My dear Enjolras and Mathieu were last, executed on the second floor of the Corinth. Mathieu would have slept through it all, actually, and I desperately hoped he would not stir, but he did, and he took his place beside Enjolras, and in that moment I felt immensely proud of him.

And that is how I lost all nine of my boys in a day. Jean Valjean rescued Marius, who is right now recovering in his grandfather's house. I am thankful he survived and glad there will at least be one woman who will not mourn, but I cannot help wishing it was one of my boys who had lived since they had so much fire in them to do so much more. I hope Marius will remember his friends' sacrifice and follow in their steps.

I visited Odette, Adelaide, and Musichetta today. Odette will not stop crying. Her Guardian is almost beside herself with trying to comfort the poor girl. Musichetta is in a state of shock and refuses to speak. It's difficult for me to determine how Adelaide is faring since she just gave birth to a healthy baby girl, whom she named Destiny. She is a beautiful child, with her mother's hair and her father's eyes. I love her. Adelaide is trying to be brave, I know that much.

I know that my boys are safe and happy in Heaven, even Grantaire, who must have repented in his last few minutes. Fernand will no longer fall over his shoes, Hyacinthe can be assured of perfect health, Sacha will never go hungry again, Mathieu will live a life unclouded by drink and cynicism. Jehan can perhaps be together with his poor Éponine, Etienne can continue learning all the mysteries of Your world, André will laugh unhindered, Alexandre can live life to the fullest, and Enjolras will see people of all walks of life dwelling together in perfect harmony and freedom. And although this group might have gone nearly unnoticed to the rest of the world, they did not go unnoticed by their family, their friends, by You, and certainly not by me. And this now brings me to my request for my new Guardianship. I wish to be given Etienne's child, Destiny, as You have not assigned anyone to her as of yet. She may not have a father, but she does have a Father, and I hope her human father's fire and love runs in her veins as well. She will be a child of the revolution, a child of the future, a child of tomorrow.


End file.
